Po-Boy Festival's VIP pass comes at a price

After waiting an hour at the Oak Street Po-Boy Festival last year for a fried lobster po-boy from GW Fins, festival organizer Byron Hughey got to thinking. "People were asking me why I didn't go to the front of the line," Hughey, the longtime public relations executive, recalled. "But I wanted to experience the festival as other people have, so I could know what to do and how to make it better."

Eliot Kamenitz, The Times-PicayuneCrowds filled the street at last year's po-boy festival, where 30 vendors honored the home-grown loaf of delight.

This year, Hughey and other organizers hope to ease congestion somewhat when the festival kicks off today at 10 a.m.: Those looking to avoid the crowds can pay an extra $150 a person for a VIP wristband that provides a fast pass to the front of lines, and access to exclusive areas along the block, including sky-box views and other spots where free draft beer, soda and water, and a portable toilet await.

Throw in another $50, and don't fret about finding a place to park.

Hughey and others say the VIP buy-in is simply filling a glaring need for the otherwise free festival, which drew 50,000 people last year. But in a city where everyone has a take on the best jambalaya, cup of gumbo or fried shrimp po-boy around, opinions were mixed in recent weeks about the idea of peddling premium tickets for an event celebrating the history of this everyman's sandwich, which Leidenheimer Baking Co. owner Sandy Whann described as "the ultimate canvas for New Orleans cuisine."

"You've got everyone from all walks of life pulling up to the same bar, elbow to elbow, enjoying po-boys, so we've sort of created a little class warfare" with the VIP pass, Whann said, adding, tongue in cheek: "I hope we don't have an 'Occupy Oak Street' movement."

As the story goes, the iconic sandwich took its name from New Orleans streetcar conductors who went on strike during the 1920s. At their shop near the French Market, Benny and Clovis Martin, widely considered the godfathers of the po-boy, were former conductors themselves, and they vowed not to let the strikers go hungry.

"When one of the strikers entered their shop, the call went out: 'Here comes anther po-boy!' " Leidenheimer says on its website.

VIP luxury eschewed

Jason Gendusa, whose great-grandfather, baker John Gendusa, supplied the bread for the Martins' restaurant, said he didn't think his old granddad would have ponied up for the luxury of a VIP pass.

"They were very tight with their money, I know that they certainly wouldn't spend any money like that," Gendusa said. "They'd wait in line, they'd cherish their money. Back then, I guess, you worked hard, and you didn't make that much. They probably wouldn't think twice."

Local artist and culinary historian Bunny Matthews is also unlikely to be among the wristband crowd. "Get up on the balcony to do what, peer down on the masses and toss them some crumbs?" Matthews asked with a laugh.

But Hughey said it's a choice for some that shouldn't impact others attending the free festival.

"It's your option, and you don't have to buy it. The price is there and if you feel it's too high, you don't have to buy it to come out and enjoy the festival," said Hughey, who compared it to the Big Chief VIP Experience sold at the New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival, which offers daily admission, access to viewing stands and a private hospitality lounge, and on-site parking.

From his perspective, sales of the wristbands have proven successful, Hughey said, with "somewhere probably around 100" snatched up as of early last week, including a third of orders that paid extra for reserved parking. The group relies on money from sponsorships and food booth fees to put on the festival, he said, and the extra revenue raised this year should keep it from losing money overall.

For those waiting in line, vendors will also be making the rounds on foot selling beer. "We're making a lot of adjustments like that to help make things move smoother and keep people from having to be inconvenienced," he said.

Wristband proceeds

Ralph Driscoll, president of the Oak Street Merchants, Residents and Property Owners, the group that took over operation of the festival last year, said proceeds from the wristbands will go toward advertising for businesses on the block, as well as street maintenance and installing security cameras.

For burgeoning food festivals, long lines of people waiting to sample the goods can frustrate organizers and vendors alike, as Erica Normand learned first hand in September after helping to coordinate a food truck derby at the Fair Grounds Race Course.

General admission for the day-long event was $15 at the gate, or a VIP option was available for $40, which let buyers in an hour early, giving them free rein of the selection, as well as five food vouchers, an hour of open bar, priority parking and a T-shirt.

"I guess we weren't expecting such a great turnout, so there were definitely some things to work on moving forward," Normand said, adding that about 2,800 people attended, when organizers were expecting close to 1,500. More than a dozen street-food vendors participated in the derby.

"We just wanted to make it a real value," she said about the VIP option, which had about 250 takers.

Still, while he bristled at the notion of a high-ticket pass for this weekend's festival, Gendusa couldn't hold it against them for trying.

"If they can make a little extra money doing that, and you know, I can't blame them for it," he said. "If they can make money doing it, then why not?"